


It Is To Be

by violinbythefire



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon Death, Comfort, F/M, First Time, Grief, Smut, breaking up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:30:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violinbythefire/pseuds/violinbythefire
Summary: Eva Hawke recounts her father's attitude towards magic, her troublesome relationship with a tattooed elf and an unbalanced mage, and her mother's tragic death.





	It Is To Be

Magic was not a gift.

Eva Hawke remembered when her magic appeared when she was six years old. Her father, a strict man who made his expectations very clear, sat her down.

“Some people would say that what you have is a gift,” Malcolm said, spitting out the word ‘gift’ as though it was poison in his mouth, “And others would say that it’s a curse.” ‘Curse’ was spoken with little more venom. He looked away from the wide brown eyes of his oldest daughter. “Magic,” He said, his voice grave as he looked back to her, “Magic is a responsibility. Only you can control your magic. There are people in this world that will kill you if you have magic. Do not believe that being an adorable little girl would phase a blood thirsty Templar for more than one moment.” Hawke remembered being utterly scared in that moment. Her eyes, wild with fear, looked to her mother for comfort. Leandra looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. Looking back, Hawke knew it was because however blunt her father was, he was right.

From that moment, Hawke followed after her father like his shadow. Despite his harsh warning, she embraced her responsibility. She learned from him most of the magic she knew today. She knew how to hide it. It was her and him for the longest time until Bethany showed her powers as well. Hawke shared her father with her little sister, not thinking at the time of the brother left out in the cold. Hawke could tell though, even with her sister joining them, that she was her father’s favorite. 

After Malcolm died, something changed in Hawke. Bitterly, she wished she had been taken from her home by Templars. If she was away from her family, they would have been alive in her mind. Leandra would say that Hawke became sullen after Malcolm’s death. She was quiet and had no patience for anyone around her. 

When Bethany was killed, Leandra lashed out at Hawke. There was a rare softness on Hawke’s face as she took in her sorrow. In all honestly, she would have responded in a similar manner. What pained Hawke to this day was that they had to leave her there. Hawke buried her misery and grief. She used her unused energy to spit insults at Carver, darkly wishing that it was his ungrateful and pitiful body left out in the open to decay. But when they went to the Deep Roads on that damn excavation, her tune changed as she realized the danger her baby brother was in. He was taken from her to be a Warden. The Calling would be his death sentence, but that was years away. 

In Kirkwall, Hawke had few friends. If she had her way, she would have attempted to live a quiet life. If her foolish uncle had not lost her home, her birthright as an Amell, she might would have. But unfortunately, she was forced to align herself with others. She liked Aveline who followed the rules. The dwarf Varric was funny. He called her ‘Killer’ with an affectionate smile on his face. Merrill was a blood mage and Hawke often unconsciously gripped her staff tightly when she was too close to the girl. The naivety was what bothered her the most. Anders was an abomination and he looked at Hawke far too often and longingly for her. Isabela was a whore and a trickster. Sebastian was too chatty and holier than thou. 

Fenris reminded Hawke of a wild animal who tolerated the existence of other beings. His muscles tensed when others were around, only relaxing when he was alone or if he was drinking. Fenris was the one that was wary of Hawke’s presence once he realized what she was. But it slowly morphed when Hawke proved that she was unlike any mage he had ever met in his life.

The first time they had sex stirred up something deep inside Hawke. She remembered two clumsy, desperate figures making their way up the staircase and into her bedroom. With him being in armor and she in her robes, Fenris was the one that had easier access to touching her beneath her clothing. She almost lost her footing on the stairs when she felt him cup her through her small clothes. The gasp of surprise seemed to have scared Fenris off as he quickly removed his hand. He opened his mouth as if to apologize and she quickly cut him off.

“I’ll let you know if I want you to stop.”

She had pulled off his armor piece by piece, the clatter of the metal on the floor echoing in her room. Fenris was more than comfortable with taking charge, flinching back only when Hawke began an active participant. The two tumbled back on to Hawke’s bed, the robes easily sliding to the floor. 

Fenris was pressed against the headboard when Hawke climbed into his lap, making quick work of guiding his manhood into her. His lyrium markings lit up the way they did when before he killed a man, the sight making Hawke more aroused than it should. They were wrapped up in each other. His hands had cupped her hips, squeezing one of the only fleshy areas of her body. She held him close in her arms, drawing her nails up and down his back. Fenris had pressed his teeth into her left shoulder and bit down in a way that made Hawke cry out to a deity she didn’t believe in. 

What a pair they made. An ex slave from the Tevinter Imperium and a mage that hunted down apostates. It was the stuff of fairytales, of the useless drivel that even Varric could not write. Copper skin collided with bronze as the two refused to be separated for a single moment. Hawke could not help but appreciate Fenris’s decency to pay attention to her pleasure. He paid attention to her filthy, gasping whines that would humiliate her in the morning. Hawke raised and lowered her lips rhythmically, meeting with Fenris’s thrusts with near perfect timing. Her lips went to Fenris’s right ear and did what she had always wanted to do. Her teeth nibbled at the extremity, blowing air against him. 

It wasn’t long before their lips met once more, hungry and frantic. They found what they did not realize they were searching for. Fenris was predictable as any man, his speed quickening as he realized how close he was to achieving an orgasm. His eyes met hers and there was something wild in them. It was as though he had suddenly realized something. His markings lit up brightly once more. It distracted Hawke to the point that she didn’t realize that Fenris had came until she felt the hot liquid inside her. The sudden sensation was enough to make her come as well. The act showed as she made throaty gasp, struggling to keep her composure.

The two eased back on the bed. Hawke lied back on the bed and was surprised to find Fenris moving to lie with her as well. She wrapped her arm around him, setting her chin on the top of his head. He nuzzled against her breasts, his breath as ragged as hers. The two of them did not speak. What was there to say? Hawke dozed off as she thought about having to go to Anders clinic in the morning. She would have to figure out a way to get him to make her a potion to take care of any potential accidents that would occur as a result of Fenris’s seed inside her. She woke up to the sight of Fenris slipping on his armor. 

It was hard what happened after. Hawke couldn’t articulate what she expected from Fenris. She knew she wanted more and she knew that he was leaving her. Her fingers trembled as she sat on her bed and wrapped her hair with silk in preparation for sleep. Her eyes were glassy but she did not allow a single drop to leave. 

Fenris had not left their group and Hawke found herself being grateful for that. Seeing him brought a soothing feeling over her. There as a period of time when she did not speak to him. She more or less communicated through Varric.’Tell Fenris’ was the most popular set of words that she uttered for a solid month. She didn’t look at Fenris, but she could see the flash of guilt in her peripheral vision each time she spoke to Varric to relay her message. 

It was in that period that Anders seemed to be more interested in her than before. Maybe it was petty. There was a part of her that scolded her. She was far too old to engage in childish games. But in her head at the time it made sense. If she flirted back, she could hurt Fenris in the way he hurt her. What could she do? The man wouldn’t talk to her about what happened that night. He did not want to handle the emotions that it brought up. What was she supposed to do? Wait around until he got over himself? In hindsight, she could have handled the situation better. Maybe she didn’t have to start flirting with Anders when Fenris was not there. Maybe she didn’t have to invite Anders into her home. 

Hawke tried to rationalize why she rejected Anders. Part of her knew that he was an abomination that would only bring further trouble. The other part, a more primal part that was not interested in politics or rationality, yearned for Fenris and Fenris alone. 

Anders was furious with her. She didn’t blame him. She blamed herself for toying with a structure that did not have a steady foundation to begin with. If she could be humble, she would apologize. 

Malcolm did not raise an apologist. 

Hawke was wrapped up in her own petty squabbles that she did not see what was happening in her own house. Leandra was taken from her by a monster and Hawke lost all of her calm, collective exterior. She remembered frantically searching for her. The hours seemed to blur together before she suddenly saw the creature that Quentin made out of her mother. It was in that moment that Hawke felt guilt, sadness and rage overcome her. Leandra was more than just her mother. Leandra was her own person who had hopes and dreams. She deserved to live well into her elderly years, pestering Hawke to settle down with a nice man and provide a grandchild to spoil. She was not a thing to be used as a substitute for this psychopath’s desires. All of the potential was gone.

Hawke had been the one to kill Quentin. She watched as his body fell to the ground and she ran to him. Her grip tightened around her staff and she brought the head of it upon Quentin’s face. She was beyond caring that he was dead. All of Hawke’s pain, all of her misery, all of her anger came out of her into droves as she slammed her staff down again and again. 

Mages had a responsibility. They had a great power that could be used to manipulate life and death. Magic was not meant to be used to hurt innocent people and to further one’s own ambitions. How could something that perverted the natural order be bestowed by some Maker? How was any of this be right?

As she pounded the staff, she thought about her mother. She remembered being small and running to her mother’s side of the bed when a nightmare frightened her. She remembered sitting between her mother’s legs, sucking her thumb as her mother brushed through her curly hair. It was not fair. 

“Hawke ! Hawke!”

She heard her name being called, but she didn’t care. She kept hitting Quentin’s face even as it became a pulpy mess of blood, skull and brain matter. Blood splattered on her face and on the front of her robes. She only stopped when she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist. She was picked up and carried away from the body. “Let me go! Let me go!” She screamed, still waving her staff around in an effort to bash the body in once more. The staff fell from her hands, clinging on the floor. The person who held her turned around so she could no longer look at Quentin. Instead, they put her in the line of sight of her mother whose stitched body had fallen on the ground.

It was then that she stopped screaming and the arms released her from their hold. She looked over her shoulder to see that it had been Fenris that carried her away. He looked at her with such compassion with a mouth open as though he wanted to say something. Nothing was said, nothing appropriate could be said.

Hawke was grateful to hold her mother during the final moments of her tragic life. She promised to never use her magic in such an abhorrent way. She would not use it again if it meant she could avoid that risk. She said goodbye to her remaining parent and could only hope that in some way Leandra would see Malcolm again. 

Fenris was the one who came to her when she went back to the former Amell Estate. His words, carefully chosen and spoken softly, eased her but the pain was still there. The people around her, as much as they annoyed her and vexed her on a daily basis, were the only family she had left. This pettiness had to end. When Fenris made her way to leave her room, Hawke had called after him.

“I forgive you.”

He stopped and Hawke could see that every muscle in his body had tensed. She could see, even though he was turned to her that his jaw was clenched. He didn’t say anything back to her before he left. She didn’t expect him to.

He wasn’t an apologist either.

**Author's Note:**

> This may be the first one shot in a series involving Hawke and her relationship with Fenris. Keep a look out. Thank you for reading.


End file.
